


Forest For The Trees

by PsychGirl (snycock)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-26
Updated: 2008-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-13 03:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snycock/pseuds/PsychGirl
Summary: Blair worries about how to celebrate his and Jim's fifth anniversary





	Forest For The Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Elaine, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Artifact Storage Room 3](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Artifact_Storage_Room_3) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Artifact Storage Room 3’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/artifactstorageroom3/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for Sentinel Thursday challenge #250 - celebrate five; in honor of their fifth anniversary.

_I’m not disappointed_ , Blair told himself firmly as he trailed after Jim into the Builders’ Depot, _just a little... dismayed. And a little frustrated_. 

He’d expected that today, five years to the day since they’d become lovers, would be a little different from their usual Saturday routine of cleaning or errands. Maybe they’d start the day off with some leisurely fucking. Then they’d stroll downstairs in their bathrobes; he’d make chocolate chip pancakes – Jim’s favorite – while Jim read the paper and drank coffee. He’d even been willing to go whole hog... literally... and fry up some bacon for his fat-and-salt-addicted partner. And then after breakfast (well, brunch, really), they’d head upstairs for round two. They’d have to do something to work all those calories off, after all. 

At some point the correct moment would present itself, and he’d give Jim his anniversary gift. He’d gotten a friend of his, an artist he’d met a few years ago when he was helping stage an exhibition at the Museum of Anthropology, to do a carving for him – a stylized panther and wolf, curved around each other, done in dark and pale woods, respectively. It was striking, yet abstract and tasteful enough to sit on Jim’s desk in the bullpen. Wood was the traditional gift for a fifth anniversary, but it didn’t matter to him whether Jim knew that. He just wanted Jim to like it. 

And he wasn’t expecting any reciprocity from Jim at all. Jim wasn’t exactly a hearts and flowers kind of guy, which was fine. It wasn’t like they’d done anything incredibly special to mark the occasion in the past. Last year he’d gotten a kiss and a “Happy Anniversary to you, too, Chief” when he’d mentioned it. He’d thought that, this year, Jim might get him a card, maybe something funny and teasing. That was more his style.

What he hadn’t expected was to be woken up at a quarter past seven in the morning by a smiling Jim bearing a mug of steaming hot coffee. “Come on, Sandburg, up and at ‘em,” Jim had said, more cheerful than anyone had a right to be at that hour of the morning. “We’ve got errands to run.”

And run errands they had. First they took the truck to have the oil changed, which gave Blair a chance to slug down some more coffee and gave Jim a chance to indulge in some donuts. Then they stopped at Megan’s apartment to pick up a load of blankets that she had agreed to donate to the homeless shelter. 

Jim had gotten sidetracked by the scent of fresh cherries, so they had ended up walking the few blocks to downtown and buying some at the Farmer’s Market. And then they had headed towards Builder’s Depot, with just one quick detour to the grocery to get beer. 

So now they were here, and this was really not the way Blair had thought he’d be celebrating the start of his sixth year with Jim. He trudged along in Jim’s wake, the dismay deepening a little. Now he felt really self-conscious about the gift. Jim was going to be embarrassed when he gave it to him; he was going to make some excuse about not remembering, and then he’d go out and get something quick, at the last minute, which Blair didn’t want. He’d just felt that five years deserved something special to mark the occasion; he hadn’t meant to make Jim feel bad or make a big deal out of it, but now it was going to be that way. Maybe it would be best if he just returned the figurine, or maybe he could wait until Christmas....

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize that Jim had stopped in the middle of the aisle, and he ran straight into him. “Oof!” he grumbled, stumbling back a few steps.

Jim gave him a worried look as he grabbed Blair’s shoulder to steady him. “Chief, are you all right? You’ve been out of it all morning.”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly. God, he couldn’t let Jim catch on to his thoughts, so he did his best to arrange his face in a pleasant expression. “Too much coffee, I think. Plus that stuff at the Quickie Lube was pure sludge. Not so hot on an empty stomach.”

“Well, we’ll grab something for lunch on the way home,” Jim replied, turning back to the shelves. 

“What are you looking for?”

“The bike rack under the stairs lost a screw,” Jim said absently, poking through the bins of screws. “We need to clean out some stuff under there anyway, so I figured I might as well fix it while I’m there.”

Blair’s heart sank. Looked like it was going to be a regular Saturday after all. 

He followed Jim as they picked up a bag of mulch (“for Simon,” Jim replied to his puzzled look) and a couple of jugs of water (“for emergencies,” Jim clarified). 

_Stop moping_ , he chastised himself fiercely. _It’s not like this day’s any more or less special than any other day. You love Jim and he loves you, and you let each other know that every day, that’s what’s important_. 

But there was still a part of him that felt sad. It was the anthropologist in him, the part of him that loved rituals, the part of him that had never really given up and gone away, even after the diss was dead. 

He helped Jim load the mulch and the water in the back, and was reaching for the door to the truck when he heard Jim curse softly. “What’s up?” he asked, raising his head to look at Jim.

“I forgot lightbulbs.” Jim’s expression was somewhere between perturbed and annoyed.

Blair felt the corner of his mouth lift in a faint smile. “I’ll go get them,” he volunteered. 

His low spirits stayed with him, though, as he trudged back inside the store, looking for the appropriate aisle. He knew that a lot of his mood was due to the fact that occasions like this just highlighted how much he wanted to do something really public, tell the world how much he loved Jim. Throw a big party with all of their friends and celebrate. But that was just selfishness on his part. Their friends might be happy for them, but that kind of information could have terrible consequences if it got out to the precinct as a whole; could mean the difference between backup and no backup. They’d talked about it, early on in their relationship, and decided that it was the better part of valor to keep quiet. 

Not that they were probably fooling many of the people who knew them well. He was pretty sure Megan had figured it out. And Simon, although he imagined for supervisory purposes Simon must be grateful that neither of them chose to formally share the information with him. 

_That’s enough, Sandburg_ , he told himself, angered at the negative turn his musings had taken. _You’re going to be so busy mourning what this day’s not that you’re going to miss what it IS_. Pushing the dispirited thoughts from his head, he found the lightbulbs, zipped through the express check-out, and exited to find Jim idling at the curb. 

“Thanks, babe,” Jim said as he hopped in.

“No problem,” he replied, giving a negligent wave with one hand.

“You want to swing by Jerry’s and pick up some subs on the way home?”

For a moment he could only stare at Jim, one eyebrow raised in surprise. Jerry’s was across town, and there was a Wonderburger just around the corner.

“What?” Jim said defensively, as if he could read Blair’s thoughts, “I don’t _always_ want to have Wonderburger. It’s nice to have a little variety now and then.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Jim Ellison?” Blair asked, laughing, dodging the cuff Jim aimed at him from across the cab. 

The easy banter dispelled the last of his sour mood and he found himself smiling, even when Jim ordered a foot-long meatball sub with extra cheese that made Blair roll his eyes in exasperation. “Ellison,” he warned, “I am _so_ not resuscitating your ass when you have a heart attack.”

“Hey,” Jim said, a smug grin on his face, “I said I wanted variety. I didn’t say I’d given up on good food.”

Undaunted, Blair was about to launch into a lecture on the difference between heart-healthy and unhealthy fats when Jim turned right instead of left and started heading up into the mountains. “Uh, Jim, where are we going?” he asked, his speech forgotten. “The loft’s back that way.”

“I know,” Jim said easily, “I just figured it’d be nice to eat outside.”

“Oh,” Blair said, slightly surprised. Jim was not usually given to spontaneous and impulsive actions. “Well, yeah, that sounds good.”

They were only a few miles beyond the outskirts of town when Jim turned off onto a narrow, deeply rutted road. The truck bounced along, making Blair long for the old days of the F-150 and its hydraulic shocks. But in between jolts that made him feel like his jaw was going to separate from his skull, he caught a plain wooden sign that read “Cascade Forest Preserve”. 

_Christ_ , he thought, _We couldn’t have found a picnic spot in a park somewhere in Cascade? Off of a nice, smooth, paved road?_

Jim pulled the truck over and parked at the edge of a small clearing. Blair got out, moving cautiously, testing to make sure his arms and legs were still connected and his joints were still working. 

He was about to rib Jim for the rough ride when he noticed a slender evergreen sapling, slightly taller than himself, in the clearing. It stood not quite in the center, but clearly wasn’t a part of the grove around them, either. It looked like it was newly planted; the earth around it was dark and churned up. There was a small sign posted in the ground in front of it, and Blair wandered over to it, his curiosity piqued. 

“ _Picea sitchensis_ ,” the sign read, “Sitka spruce, gold needle selection.” And below that, “Planted and adopted by Blair Sandburg and James Ellison.”

“Happy anniversary, babe.” Jim’s voice, deep with emotion, came from right behind him. 

“You... I... how did... but you never said....” Astonishment and shock made him incoherent. He mentally shook himself and tried to start over. “You bought me a tree?”

“Uh-huh,” Jim said, his arms sliding around Blair’s waist. “It’s a program, started by the Washington State Department of Natural Resources, to get folks to help replace the forests lost to logging. Simon told me about it; he figured you’d be into it.”

“Jim, this is... man, this is _so_ cool!” He reached up and fingered the needles reverently. “The golden Sitka spruce, that’s a sacred tree to the Haida,” he said softly.

“I know,” Jim replied, chuckling, “I did my homework, Chief. And I don’t know if you know, but wood is the traditional gift for a fifth anniversary.”

“I do know that, in fact,” Blair replied, grinning. “So... we’re responsible for this tree now? Man, I’m not sure I’m ready to be a co-parent with you.”

Jim laughed. “We can come up and visit it whenever we want, but, no, the Forest Service will take care of it. And this is all protected land; it can’t ever be logged.” He nuzzled Blair’s neck gently. “I figured today we could give it a little water, a little mulch, then sit and eat lunch here.”

Blair leaned back into Jim’s embrace, shaking his head. “You dog,” he said, “you had me totally fooled....” He trailed off as he noticed something shiny hanging from one of the tree’s boughs; straightening, he reached out and pulled it towards him.

It was a small copper disk hanging from a thin, black leather thong. The disk was engraved with an inscription: today’s date and “Five years”. Blair flipped it over. The other side bore a heart, with “J.E. + B.S.” in the middle. 

“I know we decided not to be public,” Jim said, his voice low, “but I felt like this occasion deserved some kind of tangible recognition.”

Breath hitching, Blair closed his hand convulsively around the metal disk. He swallowed in a suddenly dry throat as a flood of emotions washed over him. Fear, just a little – for Jim, not himself – if people knew. Shame at his earlier negative thoughts; guilt for doubting Jim. But also a thrill of excitement, at the thought of showing it to trusted friends; at the thought of Jim looking at him from across the bullpen, knowing he was wearing it. Determination. Defiance. And love, rising so strong and powerful that it stole his breath, swept everything away in its wake, filled him with light and joy and warmth until he thought he might fly apart from it. He took a shaky breath; his hands trembling. 

“But you don’t have to wear it,” Jim was saying hastily, obviously mistaking his silence for uncertainty. “You can leave it in the tree, and it’ll always be there, and—”

“Shut up,” he gasped, his voice rough, turning in Jim’s arms and laying his fingers across Jim’s mouth. He pressed close to Jim, wrapping his arms around Jim’s waist, resting his cheek against the rough denim of Jim’s shirt. Jim’s arms came around him, his big, warm hands rubbing soothingly over Blair’s back. 

When he felt like he could speak again, he pulled away and grabbed Jim’s arm. “Put it on me,” he demanded hoarsely, pushing the medallion into Jim’s hand.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

His face solemn, Jim untangled the leather cord, then slipped it over Blair’s head and around his neck, tugging the disk gently until it settled on Blair’s chest. His hands slid up to cup Blair’s face. “Love you, babe,” he whispered, his thumbs tracing lightly over Blair’s face, “so much.”

“Love you, too,” Blair breathed, and then Jim was kissing him, long and slow and sweet. 

Blair could have happily spent the rest of the day doing that, except that after a few minutes he heard Jim’s stomach growling and pulled away with a chuckle. “Okay, Tiger,” he said lightly, “maybe we’d better take care of this tree so we can get you some lunch before you waste away.”

Ruefully, Jim agreed, and they set to work. While Jim opened the bag of mulch and piled it around the tree, Blair poked a small hole in the bottom of the water jugs with his Swiss Army knife and placed the jugs around the tree, ensuring that it would get a long, slow soak that would reach down to the roots.

Once they were finished, Jim pulled a few of Megan’s blankets out of the truck, revealing a cooler stocked with ice and the beer they had bought earlier. They spread the blankets next to the tree, and ate their lunch in peaceful companionship. Blair dug the cherries out of the truck and they had a contest to see who could spit the pits the farthest.

They watched the sun sink low in the sky, Jim with his back against a mighty pine, Blair seated between his legs, leaning back against Jim’s chest. In the peace and quiet, Blair’s brain finally started processing all the events of the day, and a thought occurred to him. “How did you find out what the traditional gift was?” he asked Jim, twisting around to look at him.

Even in the dim light he could see a faint track of pink rising along Jim’s cheeks. “I called Carolyn and asked her,” Jim admitted. 

Blair goggled at him, his mouth falling open in surprise. “You did? Did you tell her why? What did she say?”

The blush grew deeper. “Yes, and yes, and she said congratulations, and to pass the same on to you.” 

Speechless for a moment, he fumbled for words. “Wow, that’s... that’s really cool of her.”

Jim shrugged one shoulder. “I think she thinks you’re a saint for putting up with me this long.”

“Well, I am,” Blair agreed cheerfully, dodging an affectionate swipe from Jim.

As they packed up their belongings, Blair leaned in close. “I’ve got some wood for you, when we get home,” he said conspiratorially.

“Oh, yeah?” Jim said, smiling.

Blair waited until they were both in the truck before delivering his punch line. “And I got you an anniversary gift, too.”

He shivered delightfully at the look Jim gave him as he gunned the truck for home.


End file.
